


Tight Rope

by madlib_loon



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Boys Kissing, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Italian Mafia, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-07-06 06:35:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15880539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlib_loon/pseuds/madlib_loon
Summary: Nico is the rightful heir to his father's crime syndicate. Too bad he's not interested.Will is asked to change his mind. While he isn't exactly excited about the task, he hopes it will mean an end to their friendship.As you might've guessed, neither will stick to their guns.





	1. A Favor

**Author's Note:**

> This work is based on Isaku Natsume's Tight Rope, a short and sweet manga/original video animation, which I do not own.
> 
> It was awkward to transform something visual into something written, so I hope you like what I've done with it.
> 
> Enjoy!

-Will’s POV-

 

_Will, we are all counting on you to change his mind._

_...we are all counting on you...counting on you...counting on you..._

Thanatos’s words echo in my head, timing my pace as I make my way downtown.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

——

I hear the door chime and emerge from the backroom with an armful of boxed ace bandages. Hurriedly placing them in a haphazard pile on the pharmacy counter, I duck underneath the overhang to make my way to the front to offer my assistance. However, before I can even take two full steps, at least half of the packages plummet to the floor. Well, fuck.

With a wince, I quickly leave the mess behind to attend to the store’s new arrival. I weasel my way past Austin, who admittedly has a better stocking system than I do, and find a sharp-dressed man hanging out by the chocolates with his chin in his hand. Guess tall, dark, and handsome messed up.

I clear my throat gently so I don’t spook the poor guy and greet him: “Hello, sir, is there anything I can help you with?”

He barely turns his head to flick his eyes in my direction before settling his gaze back on the heart-shaped boxes. Guess he really messed up.

Taking him in, I realize that the guy must have come in on his work break. He had on a tight, merlot-colored dress shirt and black pants. Although his initial appearance screamed businessman, his neatly-styled long undercut gives off a bad boy vibe.

“Oh, good, it’s you,” he voices indifferently.

Wait. What?

“Will Solace, my name is Thanatos, and I am an...acquaintance of your father’s.”

Knowing my father’s“business,” this conversation could literally go so many ways.

“Right, so you know that I rarely speak to the man?” I reply, hopefully disguising my deep concern as mere curiosity as to why an absolute stranger with professed criminal connections was approaching me at my place of work. 

“Yes, but I’m not here to discuss him, nor his operations,” Thanatos remarks casually, picking a rather large box and proceeding to read the flavors listed on the back. “I’m here to ask a favor, regarding someone else we both know.”

I tense. “Please tell me that this visit isn’t Nico related.”

He sighs and puts the item back. “It’s Nico related.”

Fuck. I really don’t want to get involved if I can help it. 

Then again, is it even an option for me at this point? I’ve been involved for twelve years: ever since we became friends in elementary school.

If Nico had his way, we’d presently be more than friends. He’s been increasingly forward with his intentions, like openly declaring his love for me every time we see each other forward. And he’s proved to be quite a good ki—nope. Don’t go down that road, Will.

I can’t ever allow us to cross that line.

Not that Nico hasn’t been doing his utmost to move that line around whichever way he pleases these days. The man has always taken my word as law, except in this matter. It’s paradoxically infuriating, but at least he’s beginning to learn to stand on his own two feet.

He’ll need to when he inherits his father’s position. Now he just needs to let me go.

With any luck, I’ve given him all the time and distance he needs to do it. I graduated a semester early, took up an afterschool shift at my momma’s pharmacy center, and filled my nights with online classes. He may know where I live and work, but he thankfully isn’t the type to interfere with my honest life choices.

Back to the matter at hand, it appears that this Thanatos figure is about to ruin all my hard work.

“And, you would be...who exactly? To Nico, I mean.” I question. I need to find out why this guy was interested in Nico’s situation, whatever it is that he’s managed to get himself into this time.

“Relax, loverboy, I’m Nico’s first cousin once removed, or something like that,” he explains, waving his hand about vaguely. “I’m Hades’s right-hand,” Thanatos clarifies with a smug look.

Normally, when someone finds out they are talking to a crime lord’s chief-of-staff, they’d flip out. Me, I can’t help but feel a bit relieved, given that Thanatos blatantly fed me two clues. One, he is actually familiar to Nico since he knows about his non-platonic interest in me. While Nico is obviously very vocal on the matter around me, he is tight-lipped about his affection for me around people he doesn’t thoroughly trust; he doesn’t want to mix me up in anything “should someone decide to be fucking stupid”: his words. Two, the “favor” he was alluding to must be a pretty big one. Thanatos is well-connected and wouldn’t go out of his way to ask someone out of his pocket to help, especially with family matters.

Put at ease, I permit myself to be irked by the “loverboy” comment. I would shut down this conversation here and now, but I hesitate knowing that Thanatos hasn’t fully revealed why he’s speaking with me. 

“He’s—he’s not in trouble, is he?” I probe anxiously.

Thanatos softens his face and fixes me with a knowing look, which I refuse to interpret. “No, but he is giving us all trouble.”

Case closed. Nico is being Nico. My job here is done because there isn’t one. My services are not required. Thank you and have a nice day.

I turn to make my way back to my avalanche, but a dark-skinned hand lands on my shoulder.

“Will,” Thanatos implores, “please listen to me.”

His lowered tone gives me pause. I look to him, signaling that I will listen to what he came to say, in full.

He continues, “What I am about to tell you is strictly classified information, so Hades, Nico, and I rely on your discretion.” Thanatos shifts his weight, showcasing his discomfort on the topic. “You see, Will, my cousin is sick. He has two, maybe four, years left to live if his treatment holds out. It is imperative that Nico, as his son and heir, begin the transition into donhood.”

Wow. I knew Nico would take over his father’s operations eventually, but this is decades sooner than I ever imagined.

“Okay,” I started, “and that explains why you are here, because…”

“Because, Nico informed Hades and me a few months ago that he doesn’t want to take up the mantle. He wants to be a taxi driver, apparently. The boss isn’t too concerned with these developments, oddly enough; he’s content to let it be.

“I, however, as the only realist in this godforsaken family, know that phasing out the di Angelo line at this moment in time will spark petty power plays literally everywhere in this city,” Thanatos exclaims, throwing his hands up in disbelief by the end. He doesn’t need to elaborate for me to understand just how devastating a new dynasty would be for the syndicate’s ratings...and proceeds...and mortality rate.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he seems to gather his thoughts behind closed eyes before resuming, “Anyways, after weeks of trying to persuade that stubborn brat to reconsider, I was convinced that no one could get through to him. That is until my...close friend informed me that Nico is not only completely obsessed with your body but everything else about you as well.”

I raise my eyebrow at that. I don’t know who to give a talking to first.

“Hey, don’t give me that look. You know him as well as I do. Nico gets, shall we say, sidetracked, when it comes to your many...aspects.”

Letting out a huff at his phrasing, I reluctantly concede and dial down my expression. Nico does focus on my body far too often these days. God, he can’t keep his hands to himself.

Evidently, he can’t keep his mouth shut about it either.

Memo to me: maim Nico after tonight’s work meeting.

“I want to test if his will to please you extends to yielding to your personal sentiments on trivial matters like...let’s say, kissing...getting a minimum seven hours of sleep, and…I don’t know, accepting one’s birthright?”

I narrow my eyes at Thanatos’s first proposed items of discussion only to end up rolling them hard at the last.

Typical. And predictable.

This is why I can’t have nice things: because I have to tell Nico that he’s being an idiot, yet again.

I consider his proposal with a scowl, trying to pinpoint any flaw in its design.

“Look,” Thanatos levels with me as he encases my shoulders under his arm, “you and I both immensely appreciate the efforts you’ve taken to sever Nico’s dependence on you, but the entire group needs you to use that bridge before you burn it.”

He nonchalantly grabs a decent-sized box of chocolates and makes to walk to Kayla’s register before pausing. He turns to face me one last time, determined to drive the final nail into my coffin.

“Will, we are all counting on you to change his mind.”

——

I find Nico in an alley.

I had been peering down every alleyway since 6th Street, so I’m relieved to spot Cecil bolting after three roughed-up guys a ways up. He’s hollering after them, and I begin to pick up on it as I draw nearer.

“—you! Hey, jackasses! I’m talking to you! You fricking cowards! Come back here! You can’t—” He rounds the corner.

And where there’s a Cecil...

I head towards the mouth of the alley as Nico exits with a split lip, inflamed knuckles, and a bored expression, that is quickly replaced with pleasant surprise upon seeing me.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“Will!” He greets.

“Nico—” I begin

“Nope, I’m gonna stop ya right there. You know I don’t pick on the small fries, Will. They were the ones to start things with me,” he reports, clearly anticipating one of my usual lectures.

“No, actually, I was—” I try again.

“Wait,” he cuts me off again, “why are you on this side of town?” Nico looks at the sky and then pulls up his jacket sleeve to check his watch. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Yeah, well, I had something I needed to tell you.”

I had him hooked now; I could see the gears turning in his head.

He presses into my space and fixes me with a flirtatious gaze. “Tell me something? Something like, ‘I love you, Nico?’” He sinfully poses, tilting his head and effectively calling my attention to his split lip.

I could see it pulse.

Will. Focus.

I put my hands on his chest to stop him from following as I inch back. “No, you idiot,” I clarify.

I give him a pointed look and entreat him. “Nico, assume your father’s legacy.”

——

“I can’t fucking believe you, Than!”

“Welcome home, boss,” Thanatos formally greets, “and hello, Will,” he adds with a smile and a wink.

“Hello,” I bid him, not hiding my amusement either.

“Don’t call me that! I’m not your boss,” Nico retorts. He rushes to take Thanatos by his collar. “Don’t fucking use Will as a goddamn chess piece, you goddamn prick!” He barks. “Just because Triton is your boy toy doesn’t mean that you can get him to drag him into this!”

Ah, that explains how Thanatos knows my dad. Triton is his chief-of-staff.

Aw, that’s cute, two seconds dating.

“I’ll take any advantage of whatever and whoever I please. I’m a gangster,” Thanatos responds matter-of-factly. He spins out of Nico’s grip and shifts his attention to me, “What the hell, Will? Didn’t you manage to convince him?”

“You bastard!” Nico spouts.

“Calm down.” Thanatos throws over his shoulder, waiting for an explanation.

“I talked to him just like you asked,” I inform Thanatos, leaving it unsaid that I didn’t manage to change his mind.

Thanatos pivots to face the still-fuming grump behind him. “Nico,” he urges, “you have to succeed your father.

“We can ease you into it. He still has time left. It won’t be quite the burden you imagine,” he tacks on.

Nico huffs and drapes himself across the couch in Thanatos’s office. “It’ll be fine,” he shrugs. “You’ll find someone else, and I’ll build a family with Will.”

Like hell that’ll be “fine!”

“And just who would you suggest?” Thanatos entertains.

“Percy.”

Thanatos and I slump. That was a horrible idea.

After the period of silence, Thanatos resumes his last-ditch effort. “So, even though Will wants you to succeed, you won’t do it?”

“Wait, you actually want me to become Don, Will?” Nico asks, sitting up abruptly.

“Suits would suit you better look than a taxi driver uniform.”

Nico’s eyebrows shoot up at that, and I feel my face flush.

I didn’t mean to say anything like that! Fuck! I didn’t mean to say _anything_ like _that_!

God, now I’m picturing him in a suit.

I collapse into the desk chair and cup my face in my hands, letting out a mute whine.

I hear Thanatos clear his throat. “Anyways—”

“I said no and I meant it!” I look up just as Nico books it out of the office.

Staring at the door, Thanatos sighs. “Why does he have to be so hard-headed about this? He’s always been aware that this was always an eventuality, an inevitability.”

“He’s been stubborn ever since we were young.”

“Yeah, but until now, he’s always listened to you. You were my last card to play,” he laments.

“He seems particularly set on this. What do you want me to say? Isn’t it a good thing that he isn’t looking to me anymore?”

“Lot of good that does us now.”

He’s got a point there.

“Just...help me sway him one last time. He obviously wants to become a taxi driver just so he can somehow live happily ever after with you, right? Counts for something,” Thanatos muses.

——

Nico never had any friends until he had me.

All the kids (and their parents) were frightened away by his large overprotective, patchwork family. But, given my similar home environment, I was drawn to Nico. He was just like me, weird relatives and all.

Unfortunately, Nico never saw me as his equal. I’ve been up on a pedestal since day one. And he’s taken everything I’ve ever said to heart...with dire results.

Six years ago, we were in our first year of junior high when Nico had made his first pass at me.

At first, he just startled me, but then I got scared. I didn’t know what to do, what to feel. So I said something dumb.

_“Go jump off a building!”_

And Nico tried to. He really did.

I had to talk him down.

_“Don’t be an idiot! I’m not mad.” I promised. “You just surprised me. So come down. We can forget this ever happened, Nico.”_

_“But—but I can’t be around you anymore! If I’m with you, I’ll do something weird to you again.”_

_“Just come down, Nico,” I pleaded. “We can...we can...I guess...I’m okay with it—if it’s just kissing.”_

Ever since then, he’s become more vocal, and physical, regarding his interest in me.

What will happen if a man who is destined to become the leader follows me all his life?

——

I’m lost in thought as I unlock my front door. I don’t even register his presence until I feel his hands rotate my head and feel the press of his lips against mine.

My eyes are already closed and yet I feel him.

It’s Nico.

He’s Nico.

Nico.

Nico!

I come to my senses, pull back abruptly, and swiftly slap him upside the head.

“Go and do something like that with someone else!”

——

I watch as he stretches across my bed. I chose to remain propped against the outer door frame.

“Nico,” I begin tentatively, “why did you suddenly decide not to succeed your dad’s position? You’ve been looking forward to it for years.” I unwrap and slide the yellow scarf from around my neck, balling it up.

“Aaaah, I changed my mind,” he tries.

“Liar.” I toss the scarf at him. “A taxi driver? Really? You haven’t even attempted to get your driver’s license! How do you expect to qualify for such a prestigious career?”

He doesn’t respond, but his eyes engage mine in a silent war.

He wants me to drop it.

Heh, like that’s likely.

“And don’t use me as your excuse,” I continue. “You know that, even if you become the clan leader, our relationship won’t change.” Regrettably enough, I append in my head.

“That’s not the problem!” He counters frantically.

I wait for him to find the right words.

“Will, if you take over your mom’s store and I take over a criminal enterprise, you couldn’t be with me.”

My parents’ relationship ended for that very reason.

Naomi Solace was a proud businesswoman and Apollo Nephus, a proud crime boss. In order to keep the shop up and running, Momma had to cut all legal ties to Dad.

It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, though. She could remain honest; he didn’t have to paint a target on his back; and I had the ability to choose the life I wanted for myself.

“Nico…”

Just let me go.


	2. An Unfortunate Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will continues to be placed between a rock and a hard place.

-Will POV-

 

Why did I even agree to this?

Besides the fact that him succeeding Hades would keep the syndicate and its allies in good fortune, I guess I think that Nico has the potential to be a great leader. As cheesy as that sounds.

He...well, he...he’s so...fair.

Yeah, he can be hot-tempered and impractical, but he’s level-headed when it counts, putting so much thought into every action. He could calculate winning moves halfway through the game on _and_ off the chessboard if he’d only apply himself.

And, regardless of his opinion to the contrary, I firmly believe that Nico is a people person.

He’s warm and polite to literally everyone he meets. I’ve seen him hold a forty-five-minute conversation with an old woman about the texture of pecorino cheese...twice.

It’s actually really cute. Whenever the two run into each other at the deli, Nico takes the time to converse with Mrs. Valentina Fedorov on all things Italian since she has no one else to exactly talk to on the matter. She only has her husband and his family, who are all full-blooded Russians.

I hum a laugh as I recall something that Nico had reported from their last chat: _“He tried to tell me the leek was garlic! Dear me, I can’t ask the man to pass the salt lest he give me bread as well!”_

I still don’t understand why he found it so funny, but I definitely remember snorting at his impression of her.

I just admire him for making sure everyone is acknowledged.

In any case, I mean to say that Nico’s future subordinates and “business partners” would feel so respected and valued by him, there would be no griping about having to deal with some entitled kid giving orders, no pressing threat of mutiny. He’d be held in such high regard.

I just have to get him to drop whatever fancy he has for me; that’ll get him to take up his father’s mantle.

I’m doomed.

“Ah!” I exclaim as I wring my hair with my free hand. The other keeps lightly swinging a plastic takeout bag. “Why did I even agree to this?” I continue to scold myself, this time under my breath.

I’ve really had it with this entire situation.

I know it will take something drastic for Nico to stop trying to make me his, but I’m just not sure how much I’ll be able to change his mind. I can’t even pinpoint why Nico is as into me as he is. Like, I get that I was his first friend and that he finds me physically attractive, but there must be something else.

I hope there’s something else.

Whoa. Um, okay, where did that come from?

I shudder slightly, trying to rid myself of that startling sentiment.

God, he’s going to change _my_ mind at this rate, that jerk.

I resecure my loosened earbud and forcibly return my focus to my walking playlist. I’ve spent enough time on the Nico topic for one day.

I don’t even make it a full block before the devil himself appears several feet in front of me.

Fucking typical.

Nico saunters down the sidewalk several feet ahead of me in a disheveled school uniform, blatantly disregarding the fact that he should be in school right now.

I let out a quiet huff. Of course he’s out and about. Why go to class when you can get yourself into petty street fights?

I slow my pace and consider my options. No, not of the “What should I say to him?” variety. Of the “If he turns left up here, I can turn… right there!” variety.

No way in hell am I going to talk to him now. Certainly not in this state of mind. Certainly not when I know full well that he will follow me back to work. And certainly not when I am unwilling to lose a _single_ steamed dumpling to that mooch.

I watch him carefully, remaining close to places I can dive behind if he turns around.

——

The good news? I made it back to work undiscovered and finished my shift in peace.

The bad news? Nico is standing outside my front door.

And he’s not unscathed. Nope. That’s too much to ask.

Tracks of dried blood lead from his nostrils and renewed split lip, and the idiot has the piece of mind to grin down at me.

“I swear to God, Nico,” I start without any clear destination for the threat. “You don’t need to start or finish every fight that presents itself!”

He sways slightly so he can get a look behind me. “Is anyone else home?”

“No, the shop extended its hours on weekdays.”

“Let me in?”

“I have class.”

“Please?”

“For one hour.” I supply. I was hoping to use tonight to contemplate the AMA Code of Medical Ethics, not Nico’s evergrowing stupidity.

He rests his cheek on my shoulder and pathetically mumbles, “For the night?”

Noooo~

“Nnnnhh, fine.”

——

Nico effortlessly hoists himself onto the bathroom counter by his palms while I pull out a washcloth and wet it under the sink. Handing it over, I look him up and down as he wipes at his face. He doesn’t seem to be too banged up.

I sigh. At least nothing is broken.

“What a rare sight,” I observe, breaking the silence. “I can’t believe you lost a fight.”

“Oh, I didn’t,” he amends. “I was just outnumbered for a few minutes.”

“How many people did you pick on this time then?” I asked, kind of unimpressed.

“Nine.”

My eyes widened as I try to process that number.

“And I didn’t start anything. It was an ambush.”

“...ambush?” I echo weakly.

“Yep,” he pops the p, casually beginning to rinse the cloth. He hangs it over the faucet to dry before continuing, “Four of the guys actually managed to surprise me yesterday, too. Guess they each grabbed a buddy and then figured, ‘Fuck it,’ and grabbed one more.” He humphs, “And I went easy on them, too, poor chaps.”

“You were ambushed?” I exclaim a little more decidedly. “And more than once?!”

“Yeeaah. I thought I established that?”

“Did you tell your dad about it? Or Thanatos?”

“Nooo…”

“And why the fuck not?!”

“Because, why bother them with small fish? I can take care of them myself.”

“God, that is so not the point, Nico. One day—” I trail off. I don’t even want to finish that statement.

I abruptly turn and stride down the hall and to my bedroom, trying not to let my imagination wander. I could easily think myself into an anxiety attack if I start pondering what-ifs.

I plop myself onto my bed, laying mostly on my back with a foot on the ground and an arm bent over my eyes.

“Wiiiiiiilllll,” Nico beckons as he follows me to my room.

I feel the bed dip.

“Wiiiilll,” he calls again, shaking my grounded leg. I can tell he knelt off to the side, but he’s definitely perched his elbows on the bed.

I raise my arm up and tilt my head in his direction. He lowers himself slightly, presumably closing the gap between his thighs and calves, so that he can meet my gaze head-on. He makes a show of getting comfortable, bringing his elbow to rest on my bent knee and using his hand to support his chin. He then smiles, basking in the attention.

Oh no, I refuse to suffer any prolonged, suggestive looks from him and sit up.

Unfortunately, like always, Nico anticipated this and quickly drops his forearm across my lap. Then his other hand comes up to lightly clutch my outer thigh to more effectively block my escape. He gleams at me as the corners of his mouth fasten themselves a notch higher.

I shoot him a displeased glare and lift his arms so I can stand up unimpeded.

“Why are you always so clingy?” I chastise, crossing my arms as I pass him by. I keep my back to him, my eyes forward, as I listen to him get to his feet and turn to me. “It’s getting pretty irritating, Nico.”

He presses his chest to my back, looping his arms around my chest to encase my hands in his.

“It’s sexual harassment,” I continue.

“It’s assault,” he corrects.

I raise my hands. “That’s even worse!” I barely have time to reply as he spins me to face him. He grabbed onto my hands, probably to keep me from swinging, and keeps them firmly in his own.

“I can’t help it,” he reasons. “You turn me on.”

I give a huff.

He’s so eloquent, I sarcastically supply to myself. It’s a wonder I’m not swooning.

He leans forward, keeping our eyes connected. I flinch, wanting to stop his approach, but he’s holding tight to my hands. He lowers his voice a notch; “You make me so hot,” he teases.

Predictably but all too soon, he places his lips on mine.

It’s innocent to start, and I hate how weak that instantly makes me.

Lost in the surprising chasteness of the kiss, I’m slow to notice the precise moment he freed my hands to allow his own to deftly run up the lengths of my arms. Suddenly, his rough thumbs are gently rubbing at my cheekbones; that is, until he wraps his hands around my sterno—sternocleid—the sides of my neck and head. All the while, he is gradually shifting the tone of the kiss, increasing its pressure as he continually slots his lips against mine.

Pushing...and pulling. Pushing...and pulling.

I don’t know where my hands are. I don’t know why I haven’t pushed him away.

Sometime ago, my lips had begun to answer his, opening and closing slightly to make the push and pull a bit sweeter.

Only when I settle into our strange rhythm do I notice that he’s slowly inching me backwards. Though his shoving is borderline coercive, I tighten my pull, honestly relieved to be led _away_ from the bed.

_Whump!_

Maybe I spoke to soon.

My back hits the barely open door, successfully latching it.

He must’ve timed it quite beautifully because the impact makes my mouth open a fraction wider, and he takes the opportunity to neatly glide his tongue into my mouth and lap sensually at the bottom of my tongue, then the sides of my mouth.

My legs immediately give out from under me, but Nico effortlessly props me against the door with his...everything.

I can’t manage find my sense of good judgment when he’s sapping my breath like this.

I should—

Pull.

I can’t—

Push.

I should—

Lap.

I can’t—

I let out a soft groan into his mouth as he circles a finger over my left—

Hold...hold the phone.

When did he get his hand under my shirt?!

I release his jacket, which I had apparently been fisting between white knuckles, and hurriedly bring my hands to his jaw.

I give another involuntary grunt as he lightly tweaks my already teased nipple.

Now or never, I think as my body begins to bow.

Sorry, not sorry, Nico.

I rend my mouth from his and pinch his split lip mercilessly between my thumb and curved pointer finger, holding him by the lip, not unlike a fish.

“Ow. Ow, ow, ow, ow!” He squirms, testing the strength of my grip. “Why not, Will?!”

“Isn’t it obvious?!”

“But kissing was fine,” he contends, attempting to pout with his caught lip before wincing.

“I don’t lose anything from a kiss!”

“What’s to lose?” He quizzes. Then he lifts his eyes up and away in consideration. “You’d gain something if we have sex,” he adds in a guiltlessly bawdy manner.

I’m sure a vein is popping out of my forehead as I viciously dig my thumbnail into Nico’s injured lip.

I don’t let up even as he drops to his knees in a real but slightly exaggerated pain. “Aaaaagh! I’m sworry! I’ll swtop! I ield! I ield!” he cries, tapping my thigh repeatedly.

I unleash my hold on his injured lip, and he promptly falls to the floor to cradle his agitated lip.

The drama queen.

Okay...so maybe I should feel a bit sorry.

I smoothly fold myself onto my knees before casually draping my torso across his.

“Nico...what will you do when I’m not around anymore?”

“Huh?” He twists a bit underneath me, probably wondering how I grew so somber. “Where did that come from?”

“Sure, you bend over backwards to be with me _now_...but that’s just because you don’t seen anyone else but me at the moment.”

“No,” he regards soberly, “it’s because I love you.”

How can he be so serious and forward about this?

“But, if you left me,” he continues, “I’d be a wreck. I’d definitely cry and, after that, I’d—well, I’m not sure but it’d be torturous and unpleasant and complete misery.

_Vmmmmm. Vmmmmm. Vmmmmm._

There goes the mood.

I collect my phone from the bed and answer the private number. “Hello?”

“Is Nico with you?” It must be Thanatos.

“Yeah, he’s here.”

I hear him expel a small sigh, “Good.” After a brief pause, he exclaims in an altogether displeased voice, “Secret’s out. I believe it is safe to assume that every goddamn gang in this city knows that Nico is to inherit Hades’s seat way ahead of schedule.

“My guess is that the greenhorns with too little experience and even less brains will be the first to act up and act out; they’ll suppose that the family is on the verge of collapse, so not much will stop them from coming after Nico. The only good news I have is that the smart ones will wait until Hades is gone to throw their hats into the ring.”

Greeeeat, this is _just_ what I needed.

“Yeah, about that—”

——

“Did you tell anyone?” Thanatos asks me in a near-accusatory manner.

Is he serious?

“Obviously not,” I deadpan.

“Well, we’ll investigate and deal with the leak accordingly,” Thanatos anticlimactically assures us. He keeps shifting his gaze from Nico to me and back again before deciding to focus on me. “If Nico is being targeted this soon, you should watch out, too, Will.”

No, really, this is just what I needed.

I shrug off Thanatos’s comment and look at Nico questioningly. “You didn’t tell anyone, right?”

“No, I remember that solely my father, your Uncle Asclepius, Thanatos, and me were present when we found out the prognosis.”

“You can’t think of _anyone_ who could’ve been passing by or expectantly listening at the door?”

Nico’s jaw slackens, which means he’s recalled something rather discomforting.

“Whaaat?” I goad.

“Well,” he stalls, “Cecil and I were out and about that afternoon, and I may have left him in the sitting room so he couldn’t wander too far.”

That confirms it. Nico trusted Cecil the Weasel not to eavesdrop. Jesus, I bet Cecil told everybody and their favorite gas station attendant about Nico’s dad simply to bolster his “street cred.”

“You fucking imbecile, Nico,” Thanatos groans.

I couldn’t agree more.


	3. A Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone ends up in the line of fire, but maybe it's for the best.

-Will’s POV-

 

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to stick together until things settle down,” Nico goes, though I don’t know for whose benefit.

“Yeah,” I answer lamely.

I guess it can’t really be helped. He did put us into this situation.

“It’ll be great though,” he assures. “We can stay up late together…”

“Uh-huh.”

“...share the bed…”

“I suppose.”

“...go a little further?”

I pause to glare at him. “Jackass.”

“Just kidding,” he assures. “They’re only after me, so I’ll be good and stay home. They wouldn’t dare follow me home.”

“What about your classes?” I protest. He won’t graduate at the rate he’s going.

“Um~ I’ll have Thanatos take care of it somehow. Until the—” He stops.

I follow his line of sight and see that two random guys, definitely thugs by the look of them, have blocked our path. I quickly throw a glance behind us to find that three more suspicious characters are closing in at our backs, leaving us no option for retreat.

I should’ve expected this, really.

Nico just _had_ to walk me home.

One of the frontmen takes two steps forward, presumably to get up into Nico’s face and spout some cliche, tough guy, we-got-ya-surrounded material, but Nico swiftly decks him in the gut. The guy goes flying backwards, knocking into his partner and bringing the both of them to the ground, hard. Nico turns to face the quivering idiots behind us with a challenging smoulder.

“You bastard!” Idiot No. 1 remarks after Nico’s first assault.

“Jesus,” gapes Idiot No. 2, “What the hell is this guy made of?”

Nico inches towards them, and they immediately start squirming. Their eyes, their only working parts, dart around frantically, obsessing over Nico’s every movement. Every time he shifts his weight, they overcorrect their placement; they probably think that they are maintaining the upper hand this way, but it’s clear that Nico’s slowly corralling them, getting them where he wants them.

Like I said, they’re idiots.

“Seriously, guys,” Nico sighs as he continues to line the three of them up. “You don’t want me to beat you up; my friend, here, doesn’t want me to beat you up. Let’s just call it a day, eh?”

The new frontman tenses, obviously preparing to punch; Nico propels himself forward on a dime and releases a second assault.

I back up to give Nico ample room to maneuver, as I’ve learned from experience that I merely get in the way in these types of situations. I turn to place the fight into my peripheral vision and try to distance myself from the entire situation.

Sure, I’m worried about Nico—I can’t ever seem to stop worrying about him—and I want to get in the middle of it all or at least keep an eye out for him, but I know he has this whole thing covered. If I flinch at the peculiar time or get in the line of fire or shout out the wrong advice, I’ll mess him up, and that’ll just get him hurt. So I stay back and stay out of it.

While Nico is used to all of this, I still find that I can’t stand it. Any of it: him getting punched, him punching others… It takes everything I have not to jump in and beg for the fight to end. And I know that’s naive. I know, but my composure is hanging by a thread, like my sanity has been these past few months.

An unfamiliar arm violently tugs me out of my thoughts, drawing me firmly and tightly into a foreign chest, and I realize my mistake.

I forgot about Idiot No. 3.

Right next to my ear, practically resting his chin on my shoulder in a teasing manner, Idiot No. 3 chides, “Tsk tsk, di Angelo. If you don’t behave, I don’t know what will happen to your friend here.”

Well, crap. I fidget slightly in his grip, but this guy has me locked up tight and is feeling pretty smug about it, if his grizzly chuckle is anything to go by. I guess this is probably why it’s recommended that people don’t turn their back to the enemy.

After a second of internal deliberation, I harshly jab my elbow into the guy’s stomach and wrestle out of his loosened grip. Then, since I made it that far, I decide to turn and thrust the side of my palm into his vagus nerve. He drops like a ton of bricks.

I can’t believe that actually worked.

“You guys aren’t too bright,” Nico offers in the gap between the others’ half-powered throws, which he dodges and counters with practiced ease. “I’ve taught him everything he knows. The kid’s a natural.”

Well, that's a blatant lie.

I almost have to roll my eyes.

The guy passing out? Sheer luck. I got the idea from an honors project I did on the anatomy of the human neck in high school; I had no idea if I’d even hit the nerve, much less deliver enough pressure to the area to knock him out. It’s not like I’ve ever karate chopped anyone or anything in my life before this point. I mean, Jesus! Whatever.

We return to our previous activities: Nico with the asskicking and me with the hanging back.

Nico doesn’t let up any on those still standing, who you can tell had run out of juice a while ago; they kept swinging their arms in wide, sloppy arcs, without clear direction or intention.

Unexpectedly, my focus changes from the fighters to the pile of limbs behind them. I watch one of the guys from the beginning reach behind himself and delve into the band of his pants, bringing out…a gun.

He takes aim and…

——

Upon hearing the short, deep, resonating sound, I realize where I ended up: somewhat in front of Nico, one hand on him. I must have tried to shove him out of the way—

Huh, my arm is warm. And...and wet? Very wet. What the hell~

I tilt my head down and see that blood is pouring down my arm from...from where?

Wait, when did I…? What?

The blood wells up between the cracks of my fingers and starts dribbling to the ground and—that’s when a sharp, _hot_ pain kicks in. In my upper arm? Shoulder?

“Son—” of a bitch. _Ow._

Steeling myself, I peer over my shoulder, hoping the damage was localized.

Where does your deltoid end and your bicep begin? I think the bullet grazed one or both of those muscles. The combination of the blood tracks and exposed muscle makes the wound look pretty gruesome, probably more gruesome than it really is.

Not that I’ve ever contemplated it before, like ever, but a gunshot wound is less painful to have than I assumed it would be. Grazed or not, I would’ve assumed that I would at least be crying by now.

The pain in my arm flares and I realize I’m a fucking jinx.

A dimmed groan escapes from me as my arm throbs, the wound stinging like a nasty blister.

“Will, are you—”

“—hit?” I finish for Nico, “Yeah.”

Meanwhile, one of the previous fighters steps between us and the shooter, who seems more startled than I am despite being on the favorable end of the gun. The guy shoves the still-raised handgun down to rest at the shooter’s side, shouting, “You idiot! They’re kids!”

Nico, after figuring out that I was simply grazed, strides toward my shooter with a dark expression. “You’re dead.”

The one who scolded my assailant hurriedly throws his hands up and shuffles out of Nico’s way, narrowly evading Nico, who instantly drops the gunman with a brutal right hook to the face. Even though the guy’s unconscious at this point, Nico straddles his chest and resumes hitting his face, over and over, in a frenzy.

“Nico!” I object. “Stop! He’s had enough!”

The guy’s face starts to swell.

“Seriously, I’m fine. He _grazed_ me!” I try to reason.

Some of the guy’s crew members take the opportunity to turn tail, understandably not willing to risk being on the receiving end of Nico’s rage.

“Nico! That’s. Enough.”

At my wit’s end, hurting, and pissed off, I use my left hand to smack Nico hard upside the head. 

There is an immediate pause in his movements and I can’t withhold a sigh of relief.

Then I bite my cheek to keep from smirking; I can’t see Nico’s face, but I’m sure it’s fucking priceless. He went from enraged to stunned in less than two seconds.

“Hold still,” I breathe out as I reach into my back left pocket.

 _Fuck, it’s empty,_ I think to myself. _It must be in the other one._ I awkwardly extend my working arm behind me and carefully pull out my phone.

Nico turns to me quizzically, no doubt unsure of whom I’m addressing. He watches silently as I smoothly unlock my phone, open up the camera, and take pictures of our attackers: first the one’s standing by, looking very much like deer caught in the headlights, and lastly Nico’s prized victim, even if his face was a bit beaten beyond recognition at the moment.

“There,” I declare. “I’ll be sending your photos to the family. Please know that the Don is still very much alive and in charge. If you come after Nico again, you’ll have to answer to him. And trust me, there will be nowhere for you to hide, what with his resources and all. Now, if you have any sense, scram.”

Nico and I look on as the remaining two men distribute the weight of their indisposed friend between themselves and limp away.

As their figures disappear behind a corner, I wait nearly a minute before I address Nico, who is still on the ground, staring at his marred knuckles. “You almost went too far there,” I chide.

I kneel beside him and gingerly remove my signature scarf. I clumsily fold it one-handedly and press it firmly on the wound with a wince.

“Could you hold this for me here?”

Nico lays his hand over the yellow cloth as I remove my own.

“Harder.”

He mumbles something under his breath but adjusts his grip.

Not even wanting to know, I take up my phone. Finding my messages, I attach the candid photos and slowly manage to type out “These idiots ambushed us but he’s fine” in a new text bubble.

“Okay. Sent.”

Thanatos is gonna _love_ this.

“You’ll be okay, right?” Nico probes after a few beats.

“Yeah, they only got the skin and muscle. I’ll need some sutures, but I think that—Don’t take it away, moron! The idea is to _stop_ the bleeding!” I place my hand on Nico’s, pressing down my darkening scarf.

“I just wanted to get a look at it.”

“Yeah? Well, tough. I’ve lost enough blood and you’re not a licensed professional.”

“Okay, fine. Let’s go to your uncle’s; he’ll get you patched up.”

——

Not in the mood to placate curious bus patrons, we take a cab to Aceso's Animal Clinic.

Yeah, don’t let that name fool you; my uncle has treated hundreds of mafia members and affiliates using my cousin’s veterinary practice as a front.

We wander through the side door, politely marked “Authorized Personnel Only” and sprinkled with stereotypical paw print decorations.

Inside, we are merrily greeted by my cousin Aegle, the backdoor receptionist.

“Hey, Will! Nic—oh my god! Will! Are you okay?”

“Yes, Aeggie. I just need to see Uncle Al about a few sutures.”

She rushes behind her desk and starts swiping her paperwork back and forth to uncover her pager. “Dad isn’t here just now,” she explains, distracted as she taps away at the pager, “but consider him on his way.” 

Setting down the device and looking up, she turns towards Nico. “Grab some gauze from the examination room just behind you...Nope...Yep, that one...Second middle drawer on the right...Your other right...Yep, you got it...That’s more than enough, bring it here.”

As he extends the handful of gauze to her, she guides his hand to my shoulder to press it directly on top of my scarf dressing. Unfortunately, she presses a lot more firmly than I had been, since apparently my grip had loosened some in the past several minutes, and I let out a muffled grunt.

“Keep up the pressure,” Aegle asks of Nico. “Now, let’s get everything set up for Dad. This way.”

Nico and I awkwardly follow after her as she sets off down the hall to one of the far examination rooms.

——

“I’ve gotta say, Will, you handled that pretty well.”

Uncle Asclepius spins around on his tall stool, removing and tossing his gloves before slipping a prescription form off the pile, gliding it across the countertop, and bringing it to rest in front of himself, pen at the ready. 

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I had much of a choice but to just—I don’t know—be shot.”

“Yes,” he laughs while scribbling on the small sheet, “but you remained calm and had the mind to cover the wound.”

“I guess,” I reluctantly voice, honestly confused as to what I handled well at all. I put myself in the way of a bullet, and it took me less than two seconds to decide to do so. It could have been that neither of us were going to be hit. I may have just placed myself in harm’s way for no reason.

“Alright,” Uncle Al announces, presenting me with the filled-out form, “I’ve written you a prescription for some anti-inflammatory medication and some antibiotics to boot, just to be on the safe side. She’ll be tender and stiff for awhile. Once the muscle has had a chance to heal a bit, we can discuss how much physical therapy you may require.”

“Thanks, and sorry to bother you.”

Nico humphs, but my Uncle Al is already on the case. “Will. Once again, it’s no trouble. I’m glad you’re okay and grateful that it wasn’t worse for the both of you.”

“Yeah, I know,” I concede. “I just didn’t think guys like that would be packing,” I add, more to myself than anyone. If I knew guns were apart of this equation…

My uncle and Nico share a look, one that screams, _Are you gonna tell him or I am?_ And I know I’ve missed something.

“Everyone has something nowadays, even our rookies,” Nico clarifies (rather begrudgingly) for me. “My father’s late ex-wife was killed by similar nobodies. The family quite often has bullet wounds on the mend.”

I look down at the ruffled prescription in my hands. I really should have guessed.

“So, if I stepped into my father’s role,” he continues, growing quieter and more reserved, beginning to turn away from me, “I’d have to let you go.”

I always said that I would be the first to leave. I promised myself that I would.

That I could.

But now…

I hop off the exam table, crinkling the god awful paper, so I can grab Nico’s wrist with my working hand and pull him after me.

“Let’s go.”

“Huh? Where are we going?”

——

I keep a firm grip on Nico’s wrist all the way to Thanatos’ office, not letting go until we’re both seated in front of the man himself, side by side.

I clasp my hands together on the edge of the desk. “He accepts the succession.”

“What? No, I don't—”

“No, he does.” I insist. “He has no reason not to now. He got his way, so...yay for him.”

“What do you mean?” Nico spouts. “How did I get my way? This seems like the literal opposite of my way.”

“Thanks for your help, Will,” Thanatos extends, blatantly ignoring Nico. “I’ll go tell the others.”

“What is going on?! Where are you going?! Have you lost it?!”

“No, Nico,” I contend, hearing Thanatos close the door behind him.

Might as well let him know he won.

God, he’s going to be completely insufferable.

“Finally, I see everything clearly,” I begin, internally gagging at how sappy I sound, “so—so, I’ll stay by your side. I’m staying by your side.”

“So…” Nico surmises, “we’ll be...together? Like really together?”

“Yep, I’m prepared for that.” I give him a chaste peck on the lips before smirking, “But that doesn’t mean I’m ready for more than this just yet.”

Nico groans, dropping his head into my chest. “You’re evil.”


	4. A Surprise Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico gets a surprise visit.
> 
> And so does Will.

-Will’s POV-

 

_“So...we’ll be...together? Like really together?”_

_“I’m prepared for that.”_

Yet he hasn’t talked to me since.

——

It’s been two weeks, nearly three, and I haven’t caught a _glimpse_ of Nico.

Even when I was at my most defiant, he was always around, pushing buttons~ and boundaries~ but now...

The world’s most adamant, _clingy_ man apparently got cold feet.

And that _stings_.

It fucking hurts. Because why would he, now more than ever just...leave? I don’t understand it—him. I don’t understand _him_. Did he change his mind? Does he not—

 _Not anymore_ , I fill in for myself, ignoring the sinking feeling in my gut.

——

Nico bumps into me while I make my way home from the pharmacy on an otherwise unassuming night. He’s carrying a large bag of carryout, presumably for him and his family, from the soup and sandwich shop a little down the street from my place.

He pauses for a beat, scanning my face. He frowns when he recognizes that _I’m_ the one in front of him, and I can’t help but return the gesture.

The pause only lasts a second.

“Hey,” he coughs into his hand. He darts his eyes about the street, looking everywhere he can but at me.

With little finesse, he finally chooses to skirt around me, in a noticeable and pathetically wide arc, before hurrying around the first corner he comes to.

Super.

What happened to us?

——

Half an hour past our awkward run-in, I inexplicably find myself in the di Angelos’ kitchen.

Hades, Persephone, and Hazel are all seated at the table, obviously enjoying each other’s company as well as the assortment of soups, salads, and sandwiches still spread chaotically before them.

One chair is empty, slightly pulled back from the table as if someone just up and left.

I hold back a sigh.

He fled again.

“Hey~ Will!” Hazel chimes, not overly surprised to see me but excited just the same.

“Will,” greets Persephone, “It’s so wonderful to see you. It’s been too long.”

“Yes, Mrs. D, it has,” I begin.

“Why don’t you sit down, my boy?” Hades breaks in, “We do seem to have some extra salad, if you’d like some,” he adds, already pushing a container in the direction of the vacant chair. If Persephone’s chiding look was anything to go by, he or Nico was supposed to have eaten the greens. _Those boys hardly eat what they should_ , Persephone frequently complains.

But...it does look delicious.

I accept with a polite smile as I set myself into the chair, guiding it underneath under the table.

Almost immediately, Cerberus’s large head makes itself at home in my lap. No doubt, he’s attempting to schmooze me into giving him a small smackerel of something.

Even though he wouldn’t really like any part of my salad, I’m resolved to keep my gaze up and away from him. I am a complete and utter pushover when it comes to this good boy. His soul-piercing eyes are particularly potent. Like, could-get-me-to-bury-a-body potent.

My strong will earns me an almost silent whine.

Cebs~ You’re killing me.

In apology, I start to gently stroke his head.

Halfway into my gifted salad, I restart the conversation.

Gesturing with my fork towards the far end of their sizable table, I comment on the plastic troughs lined with seedlings temporarily positioned there: “What'd ya got there, Mrs. D?”

Yeah, did _not_ catch the enthusiastic string of Latin that burst out of her.

“Phone,” Hades intercedes knowingly, laying his hand on hers. “I don’t think he can decode any of that.”

Hazel stops giggling into her soup so she can take mercy on everybody. “She means sweet peas, spring onion, and some weird kind of spinach.”

“Rocket spinach,” Persephone is happy to clarify, now recovered from her slight embarrassment. “I am transplanting them in the east garden tomorrow. It took me so long to find them in the greenhouse that the day kind of ended on me,” she muses.

Cebs abruptly leaves my lap. I can sense that Hazel and Persephone join me as I track his “subtle” movement over to Hades, who had one hand suspiciously tucked under the table.

After a beat, Hades lifts his head up and instantly knows he’s been caught red-handed. Clearing his throat, he tries to shrug off his guilt by restoking the now lulled conversation. “So...Will...how is your mother doing?”

“She’s doing well, thank you.”

“And the pharmacy?”

“It hasn’t been too busy lately, but that’s no cause for concern. Mom, Austin, and I are enjoying the downtime. It’s given us a chance to do some rearranging.”

“Good, good.” He doesn’t necessarily trail off, but it is evident that he’s done talking for the time being.

Hazel is quick to pick it up. “How are your classes going? Are you learning how to remove appendixes and set bones and all that jazz?”

“Appendices,” I correct playfully. “And, no, we haven’t covered any of that. The professor is having us sift through a thousand and one ethical codes and patient rights at the moment.”

“But you’re enjoying your classes?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good. More than we can say for Nico right now.”

“Um, by the way, where is Nico?” I raise.

I try not to be affronted by Hazel’s haste to take a large bit of bread into her mouth.

Persephone passes off the torch to Hades with a look. He chuckles to tamp down the tension that threatens the pleasant atmosphere then affectionately sighs, “That kid. Always wandering around during the day. He said he was tired and went off to his room just about when you announced your arrival from the foyer.”

 _You mean, directly after I announced my arrival from the foyer_ , I amend internally.

“I suppose you finally dumped him, huh?” Hades finishes.

“Wha—No!” I squawk.

Smooth, Will.

I swallow hard. “Um, we were never together, actually,” I attempt to explain. “Well, like, _together_ together.”

Hazel has now set herself to slowly but surely chugging a large glass of lemonade while Persephone and Hades share yet another meaningful look.

Geez, people. It ain’t for the lack of trying—on both our parts. We’ve just had a bit of trouble in the cooperation department, which I know— _I know_ —I don’t have the right to complain about given the _years_ I spent denying Nico’s affections. But, still. He changed my mind after all that time. How did I manage to change his in a _day_?

Did he do it out of guilt?

Spite?

I gradually excuse myself go check on him, thanking them for the food, promising to give their love to my mom, and agreeing to visit the farmer’s market with Persephone and Hazel soon.

——

I plop myself next to a “sleeping” Nico.

“It’s obvious you’re faking it,” I reveal simply.

He mimics another small snore, which would be a valiant effort, except for one thing…

“You know you don’t snore, right? Dead giveaway.”

I don’t mention that he will sometimes make this soft, murmuring noise or that his leg usually twitches.

He opens one eyelid and peers skeptically at me before sitting up with a defeated groan.

“I was to sleeping,” he argues in a slightly gruff voice.

“ _Mmhmm_ , okay.”

A beat later: “Will.” It isn’t really a question.

“Hmm?”

“You~”

There was more of an inflection in that statement, but it seems he’s not able to find the words he wants. Instead, he lays his body over mine.

And he falls back to his usual M.O. and just begins kissing me.

Languidly. In a rather sweet way.

At least, it would be rather sweet if he hadn’t been avoiding me for over two weeks.

I indulge him, and myself, a few more seconds, then I press a hand to his chest.

“Isn’t it okay?” He whispers sorrowfully, pulling back an inch.

I don’t respond.

It’s not like it’s _not_ okay. It’s just that—he’s gone for three weeks and then suddenly we’re right back where we were, like nothing ever happened, _but it did_. As much as I am okay with it, I’m seriously not okay with it. For three weeks: zip, nada, zilch. And now it’s this: “Isn’t this okay, Will? I thought it was okay. _You said_ that it was okay. Why isn’t it?” And yeah, I am okay and it was okay and it _is_ okay, but we have to _talk_ about why the hell he’s been staying away from me first before we sweep this thing under the rug.

Eventually, he must read into my hesitation—irritation—whatever this is, because he plops himself down on top of me, tucking his face in the crook of my neck.

“You’re heavy,” I deadpan.

He sighs wetly against my skin and apparently files that quip as a suggestion because he starts to move about, trying to find the right kind of leverage to lift himself up with. But, when he goes to place his hands on my shoulders, I have to step in.

“Watch the arm!”

That gets him to settle again. But I don’t mind; our position’s more comfortable for me, now that he’s distributed his weight a little.

For a while, he appears content to simply lay on me and breathe into my neck. That is, until he finds his words again.

“Will,” he begins cautiously, “will you really be with me?”

“ _Yes!_ ” I exclaim, letting my mounting confusion from the past couple weeks drench the word.

“Then, _please_ ,” he begs. “Let me continue. I can’t bear it anymore.”

“Is _that_ why you’ve been avoiding me?” I carp, rolling him onto the bed. “Because you’re all hot and bothered?!”

“No. Yes. No,” he interchanges. “Not exactly! It’s just that you let me kiss you...but you don’t really want to and I just—”

“Whatever, Nico,” I grumble in spite of myself.

I am fully aware of what he’s thinking: that I’m only with him to ensure that he doesn’t dawdle on any more ledges.

“Look,” I start again, “I’m not here out of pity or guilt or any other reason your stupid brain may be entertaining these days. Just don’t...push me away. I’m not pushing you away, anymore, and...this is all so confusing,” I finish dumbly as I realize that I’ve been looking down at and fiddling with my watch during this whole segment.

“Will—”

“Shit,” I curse, “I have to get back. I have to help close tonight; Austin has a test to study for. Also, I have to reset the window display for the flu season.”

“Relax, Will,” Nico laughs, snapped out of the moment and seemingly back to his original self. “Just get going.”

“Bye, Nico,” I murmur, giving him a fierce hug.

Once we pull back, I harshen my tone and my gaze to add, “See you around.”

“See you around.”

It’s a promise.

——

I sent Austin home as soon as I got back.

 _It’s fine. This won’t the first time I mop up by myself and it certainly won’t be the last_ , I had assured him.

By the time I finish cleaning the floor, picking up the _entire shelf_ of condoms I had accidently swiped off with the mop handle, and resetting the window display, I am looking forward to locking up and going home. The last thing I have to attend to is breakroom trash.

I zip up my light blue hoodie, opting to brave the cold instead of getting my mom’s spare jacket from out of the back office, and head out back with plastic bags in hand.

Forgoing music, I just kind of enter that peculiar state of bliss you do when you are doing something as incredibly simple and commonplace as taking out the trash as I make my way calmly to the dumpsters at the far side of the building.

 _Nico seems to be with the program now. So, overall, it’s been a good day_ , I think.

I lift up the cover and toss the bags absentmindedly before turning to make my way back into the store—when I’m abruptly pinned to the dumpster by some rando.

Phenomenal~

God forbid that Will Solace has _one_ good day.

Because, let’s face it, zero happy endings are preceded by two random guys cornering a young man in an isolated place, late at night, when he just so happens to be utterly alone.

That’s so putting it lightly, Will.

These guys have ties somewhere. That much is immediately clear. It’s demonstrated in the way they carry themselves, the way their eyes seem to be centered on their target—me—but are actually keeping close tabs on their surroundings.

But that’s not the only giveaway.

Unlike the thugs that have been gunning for Nico recently, these guys admittedly have some amount of brain, for not only were they patient enough to wait for me to plant myself into such a vulnerable situation but they were smart enough to come for _me_.

You don’t just elect to menace the significant someone of a mafioso-in-training for shits and giggles in what might as well be a dark alley. If these guys wanted to taunt him, they’d have done something during the day, somewhere public. If they wanted this to devolve into a fight, I wouldn’t have been pressed against cold metal before I even got the chance to make them.

No. These guys have something specific in mind, and I’m hoping against all hope that it’s not to send a message.

I take what solace I can in the fact that the guy lurking in the background doesn’t seem too keen to join the party just yet. Then again, it is more than a little discouraging to be at one man’s mercy while someone as stoic as this guy is acting as lookout. An unseasoned lookout would already be wide-eyed and paranoid by this point; they’d be physically rattled and prone to peering over their shoulder every four seconds—which would _really_ lend itself to any attempt to shake these guys off my back. But, as it is, this guy is as cool as a frickin’ cucumber.

The guy holding me up against the dumpster, however, is...well...repulsive. And I mean that in every sense of the word.

His nose was obviously broken sometime ago, but it hadn’t been set properly before it healed, given its slightly mangled shape. His expression is caught between a sneer and a grin; his teeth are uneven and discolored; and his hair is as unkempt as the rest of him, splayed sinisterly over his face.

He doesn’t strike me as kind of guy to give any fucks about his appearance.

Then again, I’m not too concerned with his appearance either at the moment.

Yeah, I stopped caring about it the moment the guy decided to press a knife into my cheek, denting but not breaking the skin.

God, he hasn’t so much as spoken a single word to me and yet everything about him screams bad news: the cruel smirk entertaining his lips, the unnerving gleam in his otherwise murky eyes...

...they’re enough to keep me still, and quiet.

“Hey, hey~ _Shh shh shh_ ~” he shushes me in a sickenly sweet creeper-tone, evidently expecting me to make a fuss as he leisurely scraps the knife across my cheek in a faux-soothing manner. “I’m gonna ask you to do something for us, Sunshine,” he begins, nearly cooing. “And if you do as you’re told, everyone’s gonna win, including your wannabe dom. I mean, don.” he outlines, deliberately including the slip.

With his free arm still actively restraining me, he pats my cheek with the flat of the blade in an approving way. “Fantastic. Here’s the deal, gorgeous, we simply need you to persuade lover boy to forgo the family business.

“Bat those baby blues. Let him dress you up. Get on your knees… Do whatever it is that gets his rocks off. I don’t care. As long as you get that son of a bitch to kindly _fuck. off._ and surrender his place in line. Savvy?”

“What makes you think he’ll listen to me?” I prompt, knowing full well the attempt was foolish at best at getting them to leave me alone.

“ _Aww_ , playing dumb won’t save you anymore, hon. We saw the damage he did to Daxton; bastard’s soft on ya, sweetheart. Can’t hide his puppy love anymore. Anywho~ Where was I? Ah, yes. What do you say, dollface? Won’t ya put in a good word with the guy the next time your warming his sheets?”

“And if I can’t convince him?” I venture, barely managing to keep my voice from cracking. Not that it would make much difference.

“ _Oh, kitten_ ~” he chides. “I think you can.”

He flexes his hand, the one holding the knife. “In fact, I have the utmost confidence in you.”

He leans back an inch to give himself enough space to suggestively drag his eyes down my body and up again before murmuring into my ear. “I get what he sees in you: the abs, the arms, the lips, the eyes...you’re the complete package, really. It’d be a real shame if anything befouled this perfect specimen.”

He adopts a ponderous expression and starts to tap the knife against my skin. “At least, that’s what he sees in you. Me on the other hand… Well~ a fleshlight is a fleshlight is a fleshlight. And, usually, I don’t keep broken toys around.”

His eyes flash dangerously to the knife in his hand. “I wonder how many knicks it will take for _him_ to consider getting a new one.”

The guy in the background tenses.

 _Fuck. He’s_ —

A hand covers my mouth in a harsh grip, and the knife cuts into the skin of my cheek at a vicious but nevertheless controlled pace.

“ _Mmmrph!_ ” I try to shy away from the blade, but there is nowhere to go, nowhere that I can go.

“ _One_ ,” he breathes, revelling in his sadistic deed. “And what a lovely scent you got there, handsome,” he chimes upon surveying the laceration closer. “I bet it tastes even better.”

I flinch as his tongue glides across my torn cheek and try to swallow my disgust.

He licks his lips. “Ambrosia.” 

My entire facade drops. And me along with it.

I slide to the ground, back still snuggly fit against the cold metal of the dumpster, draw my knees to my chest protectively, and take as deep of a breath as I can manage.

Knife Guy gazes down at me, looking like he won a free steak dinner.

Before he can do or say anything more to me, the silent lookout cuts in for the first time tonight. “Time to go,” he says decidedly, hand already on the sadist's shoulder.

“We'll be back, sweet thing. Better change his mind before there's not much left for him to see in you. Toodle loo.”

As I watch the two casually make their way back to the street, I have a growing feeling that Mr. Arms came along to act as more of a babysitter for the loose cannon than the lookout.

A good minute after they have gone, I rest my head on my knees (on my uninjured cheek) and let out a quivering sigh.

“Jesus. What have you gotten yourself into, Will?” I wonder forlornly.

——

“So, to reiterate, two guys approached you. One threatened you at knifepoint while one kept lookout. They never introduced themselves or who they might have been working on behalf of. But, regardless of their affiliation, they appeared to be experienced individuals in our world and openly addressed the fact that you are Nico's weakness. And they asked for you to make sure that Nico doesn’t succeed Hades?” Thanatos highlights.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” I reply, once again stopping myself from scratching at the bandage I had placed on my cheek along with copious amounts of antibiotic ointment.

“Well, I’ll look into them,” he assures, “and I will forward your descriptions in case any of ours ends up crossing them.”

“Thank you, Thanatos.”

He continues to peer at me questioningly, “And you didn’t tell him about this?” There’s the barest hint of disapproval there.

I look down at my fidgeting hands. “No,” I reveal glumly, “he’d just end up making a big fuss about it.” He’d either take me to Fiji or go on the warpath...or take me to Fiji after going on a warpath. “I don’t think I should tell him,” I finish, my tone a bit more firm.

“Good luck with that. He may be a complete dunce, but that boy’s mighty perceptive when it comes to you.”


End file.
